


Holes

by Mortefere (aldamita)



Series: Mor Oneshots [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Self-Harm, mormor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldamita/pseuds/Mortefere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a quick peek into Jim’s pov.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holes

Scratched a hole in my chest today. Moran seemed startled to see it, even though it’s always been there, itching and twitching and writhing beneath the skin; all I did was set it free. I wondered if I’d see something wriggling inside, twisting and gnawing at the flesh stretched over my sternum. A worm, a parasite- anything to explain why the hole was there in the first place. I  wouldn’t have been surprised, either, but there was nothing.  
  
A bit anti-climactic, to be honest.

And Sebastian? His reaction was conventional at best. Seeing me there, sitting on our bed sans my usual comically over-sized t-shirt pilfered from his laundry with blood crusting the ends of my fingers and shoved so deeply under my nails I would be cleaning it out for _weeks_ , had his eyes widening and untrimmed brows drawing together in such a profound mixture of confusion and concern I had to laugh. He looked like a dog, standing there dumfounded and sick with worry, as if he’d walked in to find me dropping his favorite chew-toy in the bin.  
  
Hilarious. Honestly.  
  
Of course, that didn’t last long, and he was demanding in that gruff, gritty voice of his that I tell him just what the fuck I was doing. I told him it was obvious and he was stupid to question. He responded with some rather colorful uses of the English language and I called him an idiot. Which was true; I felt better this way, couldn’t he see that? I smiled from ear to ear, which I thought he’d take as a reassurance.  
  
It seemed to put him off even more, though.  
  
For a moment he looked sad, helpless- no, wait, not helpless, exactly, but _accepting_. It reminded me of the time when I was a boy and and my mother had decided that the walls in our sitting room needed to be redecorated. She spent the entire day hammering holes in various patterns all over the room. It was interesting to watch, but when my father came home and she showed him, with a smile, how much better it looked, he didn’t seem pleased at all. He never said anything about it, just walked  over to retrieve the hammer still half hanging in the drywall and left the room. That was the first time I saw my father look at my  mother like that, with such a sense of accepted defeat and sadness, and now I was seeing it on my dear Bastian’s face. It was like looking into the past.  
  
Anyway, I didn’t like it.  
  
Which is no wonder, my father disappeared not long after that night so it was only a matter of time, now. Sebastian was going to  leave. He’d never say it, but it was clear as day on his face. One day I’d send him out of town on a job and he wouldn’t return. Simple as that. All because he didn’t understand how beautiful a well placed hole could be. You’d think he’d understand the best, being that he seemed to coo over a perfect shot for days after. And wasn’t that just the best placed hole of all? Right in the head, quick and clean, seemed to be his favorite thing in the whole world. Why was that so different than this? Because he didn’t understand the beauty, is why. He just didn’t understand.  
  
Never would, I imagine.  
  
I scowled at him, he walked out of the bedroom, and all I saw was the image of my father’s back on the last day I ever saw him. I knew Sebastian was only going to return with some rag dampened and dripping between his fingers to clean me up, but it was still a sobering moment. It was over. Maybe not today, or tonight, or even a month from now, but it was going to end. _We_   were going to end, and I hated the thought of it. Dreaded it, actually. Who else had staid with me so long, came so close to  actually being able to see into my web of ideas and make sense of it enough to lend a hand in its culmination? No one. I doubt no one else ever could. So what should I do? Let our relationship sour until we’re merely tolerating one another’s presence while we counted down the days until one of us finally broke and took our final trip out the door?  
  
No. Not with Sebastian. My tiger deserves better than that.  
  
A final chapter, then, I decided in that moment. A perfect ending to the closest thing I’ll ever come to a proper relationship. No bitter words or festering wounds to push us apart. No last lingering looks over the shoulder before going our separate ways. A nice, clean end. A storybook finish worthy of bringing even the coldest heart to tears and something my Bastian will remember for the rest of his days. A love snuffed out before it had the chance to truly decay, a love untainted by the flow of time, a love that remains perfect in memory alone; my gift to the man that showed me I may just have a heart after all.  
  
It would hurt, surely for us both, but the pain was better than the alternative, wasn’t it? Of course it was.  
  
Of course it was.  
  
I was smiling again, by the time Sebastian returned, not as manic as before, but enough to be rewarded with the sight of tense muscles relaxing and sharp, blue eyes softening. That’s the look I knew I wanted to remember, right up until the end. The last thing I wanted to cross my mind and steel my resolve before I took the last step. My beautiful Sebastian looking at me with such hope for us. Yes, it was perfect.  
  
The cloth was delightfully cold when it touched the skin of my chest, and I think something really had wormed its way out of that hole, because it hasn’t bothered me since.


End file.
